Calibrations
by Jonesy Posey
Summary: A continuation of the love story between Garrus and Shepard (Femshep Theodora) beginning at the end of Mass Effect 3.
1. Finally Over

_**A/N**__**: Unsatisfied with the ending of Mass Effect 3 and inspired by an unused dialogue between Femshep and Anderson I have decided to write my own continuation and I hope my version indulges more than myself. The whole deus ex machina with the star child- didn't happen. Instead, when the Crucible made contact, it disabled the Catalyst, thus not only ending the war, but forever ridding the universe of the Reapers. The Citadel and all of the Mass Relays remain intact.**_

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The loud mechanical whine of the Citadel reopening was deafening, but Shepard stood unnerved, captivated by the view of her homeworld unveiling before her. Even cast in the shadow of death and destruction, she found Earth profoundly beautiful. Its continents glowed like burning paper, but its oceans defiantly glistened in contrast to the twinkling darkness of space. It gave Shepard hope that not all was lost. The floor quaked beneath her as the Crucible made contact and the tremors grew stronger as its hidden power ignited. Shepard lost her footing and had to cling to the monitor to keep from falling onto the floor.

"It's working, Commander!" Admiral Hackett's voice crackled from her communicator. "The bastards are dropping like flies!" The words struck her with relief and the intensity leaked from her, draining the strength from her legs. She collapsed onto her knees, her arms hugging the neck of monitor for support.

A collective roar of jumbled cheers blared from her communicator, straining the speakers and whatever Hackett had to say was lost in the feedback, but Shepard knew it was finally over. The reapers were dead. The galaxy was saved. The floor began to steady and her grip on the monitor loosened.

"It's quite a view." Shepard cast her head back to see Anderson propped up against the platform centered in the room.

"Best seats in the house," she replied, her lips forming a weak smile. She dragged herself backwards to join him.

"God . . . It feels like years since I've just sat down," he said as she joined him at his side.

Shepard took a few wincing breaths, then replied, "I think you deserve a rest." The adrenaline was finally wearing off, and she beginning to feel the pain of her extensive injuries.

"You ever wonder how things would be different? How things would've been different if this hadn't happened . . . I never had a family, Shepard. Never had children."

"There'll be time enough for that now."

Anderson gave a hoarse chuckle. "I think that ship has sailed. What about you? Ever think about settling down?"

"Yeah . . ." she shuttered. "I like the sound of that. Not sure I'd be too good at it though."

"Sure you would. I think you would make a great mother. Think how proud your kids would be telling everyone that their mom is Commander Shepard."

Shepard wiped away the blood dribbling from her mouth, then said in a low, quivering voice, "I don't know about that. Not everything I've done is something to be proud of."

With what little strength he had left, Anderson seized her by the shoulder and looked her dead in the eye. "I'm proud of you." The words validated Shepard in a way she had long denied herself and she suddenly felt like the wayward teenager of her past who longed for nothing more than an ounce of self-worth. "You did good, child . . . You did good." With the utterance of those words, Shepard finally felt the weight of the galaxy evaporate and for the first time in a long time she allowed herself to feel. All the suppressed pain, disappointment, frustration, and fear surfaced and quickly overtook her.

"Thank you, sir," she whispered nearly breathless, tears stinging her eyes.

Anderson nodded and withdrew himself from her gaze. His grip loosened and his arm dropped lifelessly to his side.

"Anderson," huffed Shepard urgently. "Stay with me . . . we're almost through this . . ." she pleaded. His face loosened and his chest stiffened. The man who saw potential in an Earthborn street urchin . . . The man who picked her up and dusted her off after Akuze . . . The man who answered her childhood wishes for a father was dead. Shepard had never felt so alone and it washed over her, drowning her in utter despair. She couldn't catch her breath and her chest heaved violently with each gasping inhale. Tears streamed down her face, washing away the grime of war in narrow streaks. She cried for those she had lost and for those she had saved. When her breathing finally evened, her grimace softened into a small, shaky smile, but the tears continued.

"Shepard! Shepard!" The flanging voice yelling through her communicator was easily recognizable. Her last encounter with the turian replayed in her mind and she recalled his declaration of love. She couldn't revel in the three little words at the time, but the sheer remembrance of it warmed her heart, and her loneliness melted away.

"Garrus?" she croaked, the metallic taste of blood building in her mouth.

"Spirits . . ." he sighed with relief. "Hold on, Shepard! We're almost there! I'm on my way! Don't you dare die!"

"I'll do my best," she chuckled faintly. Her body was beginning to feel heavy, but her head felt incredibly light. Losing the strength to sit upright, she rested her head on the shoulder of Anderson's corpse, then hooked her arm in his.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save you, Captain," Her eyes slid close as her body began to succumb to its injuries. "Do you really think I would be a great mother?" she asked hazily, losing the will to resist seeping into a deep, deadly sleep.

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_**A/N**__**: Thanks for reading and please favorite and review! I love feedback.**_

**All characters and whatnot © BioWare **


	2. Recovery

As Reapers fell to their deaths throughout the galaxy, Commander Theodora Shepard quickly became an invaluable commodity to the Alliance and all of humankind, and Admiral Hackett made obtaining her alive the sole objective of every able body and vessel in the Alliance. Not only was she the savior of humanity, but the entirety of the galaxy was indebted to her. The Normandy crew was the first of the fleet docked on the Citadel to retrieve Shepard, but they were blocked from bringing her abroad. After a short confrontation, the eventual compromise was assigning Dr. Chakwas as her physician while Shepard was admitted to Huerta Memorial Hospital under Alliance supervision.

After it was confirmed she would survive, a newsreel was complied and every display on the Citadel replayed it indefinitely. It described Shepard's modest beginnings as an Earthborn orphan who was raised on the streets and greatly romanticized how her undesirable upbringing created the foundation for the pillar of strength she would ultimately become. Brief glimpses into how she ascended to the rank of commander followed and her success was attributed to her raw talent and unrelenting tenacity. The reel went on and on. How she graduated top of her N7 class. How she survived Akuze. How she became to be first human spectre and took down Saren. How she saved the Council. How she defeated Sovereign. How she eliminated the Collectors. How she united a divided galaxy. How she led the war against the Reapers. How she saved-

Shepard hurled her meal tray at the display monitor, shattering its screen and spilling its pasty contents all over the floor. "Damn it," she spat, then winced as a stitching pain raced up her arm. The pain was worth not hearing the whitewashed highlights of her life again.

"Honestly, Shepard," chided Chakwas coolly from her desk, unbothered by Shepard's action until she noticed the commander kneading her right arm. The doctor immediately shot up from her seat and glided over to Shepard's bedside to assess the damage. "Confined to bed rest, and yet you still manage to find a way to undo all my hard work."

"I have to keep you on your toes somehow," she retorted, but her chuckles were quickly stifled as Chakwas went to work with her omni-tool.

"You might be equipped with the best cybernetics, Commander, but even you need time to heal." Chakwas diligently finished up, then returned to her desk. "I know it must be maddening for someone like you to be confined like this, but you've suffered a great deal of trauma. Need I remind you how lucky you are to be alive, Shepard."

"Spare me," sighed Shepard. "Multiple abrasions, severe superficial burns, internal bruising, three broken ribs, a punctured lung, a broken nose, a transverse fracture in the left femur, and yet . . ." The commander's eyes drifted up to the metal ceiling as she deeply inhaled, then softly exhaled, "I'm still here. How is that?"

"Survival should be rejoiced, Commander." It was unsettling to hear Shepard speak in such a way and at times Chakwas felt Shepard wished she had died. Before she could dwell on Shepard's mental health, a much-needed voice came from the communicator resting on the end table.

"What are you wearing?" Shepard's eyes lit up at the very sound of his voice and she couldn't help but grin at Garrus's mocking sultry tone. Chakwas smuggled the communicator in at Garrus's request and it became Shepard's only connection to the outside world, and more importantly, to Garrus.

"A white, slinky cotton gown. Backless and snaps for quick and easy removal." Shepard had to resist laughing as she struggled to mirror Garrus's sexy tone.

"Oh, yeah . . . and underneath?"

"Nothing."

"I'm still here," interrupted Chakwas promptly, even though she found their playful banter rather endearing.

"Dr. Chakwas! How's my girl today?"

"Shepard is healing extraordinarily well. If the toxicity levels in her biotic implants normalize, I might be able to convince the Alliance to release her."

"Wishful thinking," sighed Shepard.

"How are you holding up?"

"It could be worse, Garrus."

"True. There was that one time you died."

"Hardy-har."

"You're the talk of the town, you know. Literally. I can't go anywhere without hearing your name."

"That god awful newsreel." Shepard eyed the cracked monitor slathered with the remnants of her unappetizing breakfast.

"I personally enjoy it. You were a cute kid. Is it true your 'street name' was Teddy Red?"

Shepard cringed and slammed her hands to her face. "I thought I was so cool," she laughed. "So embarrassing. I was such a little shit back then. I remember I use to have this bat with a teddy bear charm on it."

"Bat? Oh boy. Who would have thought such a little thug would one day grow up and be the hero of all Citadel space."

"I'm no hero, Garrus. I was just the only one left standing."

"Don't talk like that. Hell, Shepard. Only you could have accomplished what you did. Remember that."

Shepard rolled her shoulder. "How are things on your end?" she asked, desiring a change of subject.

"Fine. The Normandy was assigned to a search and rescue mission on Earth, so I'm crashing with an old C-Sec buddy of mine."

"The others?"

"Joker and EDI are sweeping the Earth's surface somewhere, of course. Liara returned to Thessia, or rather what remains of it. Javik tagged along with her. Tali also left. She and her people have a new homeworld to rebuild after all. I'm sure Vega is somewhere on Silversun Strip nursing a hangover."

"What about you? You should be moving on too."

"And I will as soon as you're well. I hear Alenko is in charge of your security. Unfortunately. Maybe I should have a word with him."

Shepard knew Garrus wasn't too fond of Kaiden these days, but for the sake of her own amusement she goaded him on. "Why unfortunately? Kaiden means well."

Garrus gave a disdainful hiss, then griped, "He obviously still has feelings for you. What's the expression? Old flames die hard."

"I didn't think you were the jealous type, Garrus," teased Shepard.

"I'm not. I'm more of the 'she's mine now so move on or else' type."

Shepard let out an airy laugh, then there was a pause before the turian spoke again.

"I love you, Teddy." The pet name was growing on her though she would never admit it.

"Aye. I love you too."

"I'll talk to you soon. Get some rest. Vakarian out." The communicator clicked off and like that her portal to the outside world was gone.


	3. Goodbye for Now

Within a few days, Shepard's wounds were fully healed and she was beginning to develop what Chakwas diagnosed as cabin fever. The commander was growing restless and kept devising new ways to entertain herself. At this very moment, Shepard was teetering on a makeshift balance board. Chakwas found watching Shepard balance on a lunch tray mounted on a titanium cup, especially in her medical gown, highly amusing and was also impressed that the commander kept her footing with her back straight and her arms parallel with her body.

"Has it come to this, Commander?" asked Chakwas dryly.

"I'm losing my mind in here, so I might as well use my time constructively and keep up my training."

"It shouldn't be much longer. I was able to send your discharge request to Admiral Hackett directly. I figured he was in a better position to cut through all the red tape."

"At least I had a window in my cell the last time the Alliance detained me." Each day the room's slate colored walls seemed to creep closer together.

The communicator display on Chakwas's desk began to flash. "Speak of the devil," she said as she pressed down the receiver and a miniature hologram of Admiral Hackett appeared on her desk.

"Good morning, Dr. Chakwas and . . . Commander Shepard?" Hackett was a little bemused by Shepard in the background.

"Admiral." Shepard hopped off the apparatus, then gave a stiff salute before positioning herself behind Chakwas.

"I managed to convince those bureaucratic bastards upstairs to discharge you, but you will not be permitted to leave the Citadel."

"Tell me the good news," replied Shepard sarcastically.

"It gets worse. You're going to love this. You have a press conference at eleven-hundred hours."

Shepard's eyes flashed to the clock resting on Chakwas's desk. "So . . . in three hours. Perfect."

"It's the only way I could get them to release you. Standard diplomatic bullshit. The Alliance wants to parade you around in front of all of Citadel space like some goddamn show pony. Just in case the other races somehow forgot that a human saved the galaxy. Your escort should be en route."

"Escort?" sneered Shepard. "I'm a big girl."

"Not my idea, but the Alliance insisted and assigned Alenko."

Shepard's eyes raised in shock, then a small smirk appeared on her face as she imagined how Garrus would react.

"Godspeed, Commander. Hackett out." The hologram instantly flashed off.

"How exciting," said Chakwas dryly, rounding her chair to face Shepard. "I'll do your final scan while we wait." She rose from her chair and booted up her omni-tool, then promptly began.

"So . . . what's on your agenda now, Chakwas? Are you finally going to open up your own private practice?"

"Perhaps. I don't really know, Shepard," she replied, her eyes busily studying her omni-tool. "You've supplied me with more than enough excitement to last me a lifetime. Settling down actually sounds nice." Chakwas powered down her tool. "Well, your toxicity levels are normal and I cannot detect any other abnormalities."

"This is goodbye then?"

"For now, yes." Chakwas deeply inhaled, then without warning embraced Shepard, her hand pressed firmly behind the commander's head. "It was an honor serving under you, Commander. I . . . I don't think I ever thanked you for saving me from the collectors, Shepard."

Shepard was too stunned to make a reply.

"If you ever need anything, whether it be medical advice or just a drink, do not hesitate to contact me, Theodora." The doctor had always made it a point to address the commander by her last name, but it felt better to say the first for once. Chakwas released her and quickly wiped away a few tears. "And I expect to see you in a year's time, Shepard. You're buying."

Shepard gave a stiff nod, fighting back her own tears.


	4. The Press Conference

Shepard now sat in a small, bland dressing room staring at her reflection in a dinky vanity. She cocked her head slightly and tried to recall the last time she had truly seen herself. There was an unfamiliar paleness in her ochre skin and dark bags no longer encircled her eyes. She was fascinated at how well her facial scars had healed and it took a great deal of straining to identify a few, faded remnants. She was disappointed to see her bright green eyes remained unchanged, their unnatural hue a mild side effect of her biotic implants. Her red hair formed a cottony tuff of dense, kinky curls and tapered towards the back of her head. She would need a little time to adjust to this stylish crew cut. Shepard normally buzzed off her hair to the shortest possible length away from a completely clean shaved head, but she was "advised" not to do so. It was the same "advice" that insisted she wear the heels, skirt, and pantyhose while in dress uniform instead of pants. The only say Shepard had on her appearance was the shiny, black lipstick. "They" agreed it was iconic and allowed it.

There came a light tap on the door, snapping her back to reality. "Shepard?" beckoned Kaiden's raspy voice, slightly muted. "It's about that time."

"Affirmative," she cried back. She snatched her garrison cap off the countertop and as she placed it atop her head, she allowed herself a moment of conceit. She was pretty, daresay even, gorgeous. She softly laughed at herself, then made for the exit. She still wore her smile as she joined Kaiden in the hall.

"It's been a long time since I've seen you smile," he said tenderly. He raised a hand to stroke her face, but she curtly evaded him. His hand balled and dropped to his side, but he wasn't completely deterred by the agitated look in her eyes. "Shepard . . . I can't help the way I feel about you."

The commander cleared her throat uncomfortably, refusing to acknowledge his statement. She averted the pitiful look in his eyes and busily straightened the golden tassels on her shoulders, then brushed off her skirt. Anything to keep her mind off Kaiden's affections. "Well, there wasn't much to smile about then," she finally muttered a reply, then without another word, she departed, her heels clicking against the floor. Even as she turned down the narrow corridor leading to the conference room, she could still feel his gaze.

The commander was greeted with a standing ovation as she approached the podium on the small, short stage set before a packed crowd of journalists. A surge of light washed over her as camera VI's activated, forcing her to shield her eyes with a flattened hand until they adjusted.

"Greetings," she awkwardly began, resting her folded hands on the podium. "My name is Commander Shepard." There was a pause, then a flurry of hands jetted into the air. A white-haired human reporter sitting in the front caught her eye because he remained unmoved in his seat fervently studying his tablet. She brushed it off and began taking questions.

"How does it feel to be the savior of the galaxy?" piped a thin, human reporter.

"I'm just relieved that this war is finally over." Though a genuine response on her part, Shepard knew somewhere her superiors were praising her diplomatic modesty.

The conference ran smoothly, too smoothly, and just as Shepard was beginning to suspect that it was staged, someone cried out, "Our Shepard. The savior of all Citadel space, but are you truly deserving of such praise?" A hushed silence developed and all eyes fell onto the white-haired reporter, a smug expression on his face. "Does one tremendous feat overshadow a slew of faults?"

Shepard took a deep breath, then asked, "Is that a rhetorical question?"

The reporter flashed a taunting smile her way, then continued. "The Alliance reviewed your pistol record, Commander, and it shows that you fired a single shot at twenty-two hundred hours, ten minutes before manually overriding the Citadel. The terrorist known as the Illusive Man was confirmed a suicide, a single shot to the head. Captain David Anderson's cause of death is the only discrepancy."

Shepard shifted her feet, rolled her shoulder, and braced herself. She knew where this was going and she didn't like it.

"Are you suggesting that Commander Shepard murdered Captain Anderson?" projected an Asari reporter, her face scrunched with disgust. A low murmur stirred from the rest of the crowd. Some voices rose in outrage.

The reporter was undeterred. "Anderson's autopsy revealed he had a few abrasions, none of which were fatal. A single gunshot wound to his abdomen ultimately killed him. An infrared scan confirmed that wound emissions matched your pistol." The reporter coolly rose from his seat, then stared up to the commander, a satisfied grin on his face. "So, Commander," he arched a presumptuous eyebrow, "what exactly happened up there?"

Shepard said nothing, but her stare remained focused and neutral. The room grew heavy with anticipation.

"You didn't want to share the recognition," he egged on. "I suppose you are conditioned to being the sole survivor-"

"Do you know why shotguns are my weapon of choice?" The off-topic retort stunned the reporter, catching him off guard. He opened his mouth to reply, but Shepard continued in a steady tone. "There's no calculation involved with a shotgun. Aim in the general direction of your enemy and shoot. The only trouble is, at least for most soldiers, is that you have to get up and personal for shotguns to be fully effective. You can't post up or take cover and pluck off your enemies. Nope. You have to rush your enemy at the right second without a single ounce of hesitation because the moment you second-guess yourself, you're dead."

"You're blatantly avoiding the real question!" objected the reporter. "What's your point, Commander?!"

"My point is that I'm not afraid to die," she replied, a dark look in her eye. "In fact, being the trained, proficient killer that I am, death is inevitable. I was prepared to die back in London, but not until the Reapers were defeated. Not until my mission was complete. Anderson shared that sentiment."

"I suppose we'll have to take your word for it since he's not here to speak for himself," said the reporter snidely. The comment was meant to hurt and it did, but Shepard's face remained unchanged.

"You're right. He's not here. This war claimed a lot of good men, Anderson amongst them and I cannot even begin to fathom just how many lives were sacrificed so we, even scum like you, could have a future." Shepard paused as the faces of her fallen comrades flashed before her. Jenkins. Ashley. Thane. Legion. Mordin. Cortez. Anderson. The countless others who were lost to the Collectors. She relived their deaths in a matter of seconds and the shame of her inability to save them restored. She took another deep breath to maintain her composure before continuing. "I looked forward to finally joining my comrades in honorable death, but for whatever reason I am still here. The only thing I hadn't planned on was the Illusive Man." Shepard paused and glared down to the reporter. "Do your notes mention anything about the Illusive Man's Reaper tech?"

"I . . ." The reporter frantically flicked through his tablet.

"I presume you are familiar with indoctrination. The Illusive Man gained the ability and forced me to shoot Anderson. He thought he was in control, but he wasn't. The Reapers were. They always were. If you had done your research, I submitted an affidavit the day I regained consciousness."

The reporter angrily sat aside his data, then yelled, "Akuze! Eden Prime! You revived the rachni! You joined Cerberus! You cured the Genophage! You even saved the Geth! Not to mention the mishap with the Bartarians! The list goes on and on, Commander!"

"Every decision! Every sacrifice!" she cried back, slamming her hand into the podium, cracking its glass with each strike. The reporter flinched and fear reminded him who he was talking to. "Any threat the Krogan, Geth, or Rachni pose was dwarfed in comparison to complete annihilation by the Reapers!" Shepard slammed down her hands, this time her body aglow with her mass effect shield, and the podium shattered completely. Pieces of glass rained down on her feet and some flaked off into the crowd. There was a collective gasp, then utter silence. "I never claimed to be a hero," she said in a low trembling voice, powering down her shield. To the sound of glass crackling underneath her feet, she straightened her jacket and garrison cap. "That'll be all. Thank you for your time." She gave a salute and dismissed herself off the stage. When she disappeared back into the hallway, an ocean of voices beckoned her back. Her strides grew broader and faster to escape them.

"Shepard!" She glanced over her shoulder to see Kaiden hammering towards her. She kicked off her heels, and quickened her pace to a sprint. She didn't know where she was going, but she knew it was away and that was good enough for her.


	5. Our Spot

Shepard found solitude at the very top of the Presidium. Still in uniform and without shoes, she sat on the hood of a skycar and from her perch she warily observed the plaza below, unsettled by how unchanged it appeared to her. The same indistinctive murmur rose from the shifting crowds below. The same low roar of cars zooming by. She didn't know what she expected, or rather wanted, but it was as if the war never happened and that sickened her. She drained the beer she was nursing, then reached down to a small cooler resting at her side to retrieve another one.

It was then she heard the low rumble of an engine and a blue skycar smoothly parked next to hers. The door lifted open and Garrus emerged. His feet were bare and he was wearing fitting pants that framed his narrow waist and thin, angular legs. A plain white shirt hugged his chest nicely and bared his cowl and Shepard wasn't surprised to see that he still wore his visor.

"You found me," said Shepard quietly, still staring out to the plaza.

"Something told me you were up here." Garrus unsurely stepped closer. "I saw the interview."

"I can't believe I lost it like that." Shepard looked towards him, then quietly said, "I . . . I did everything right." The corners of her mouth quivered and her throat tightened. "People died, but . . . I-I wouldn't change a single thing." Her face crumbled and her legs folded up to bury her face into her thighs. Her shoulders shook with each muffled sob.

"Shepard . . ." The turian was never quite sure how to comfort, but he instinctively slid onto the car and embraced her, drawing her head into his carapace. Her breathing evened and her cries softened. "Good?" he asked, stroking her head.

Shepard nodded, then tucked her face into the hook of his arm. There were a few more sobs, then she abruptly removed herself from him. "I don't cry," she snapped as if she were trying to remind herself. She roughly wiped away with the palm of her hand the remainder of her tears, then took a hefty swig of her beer.

"Drinking alone is a sign of alcoholism," he teased, one of his brow plates rising.

Shepard scoffed, then dug her hand into the cooler and handed him one. "Join me then. It's synthetic. You should be able to drink it with no problem." Shepard patted around her and mumbled, "Where did I put that bottle opener?"

Garrus snickered, then took the bottle from her hand and popped the cap off using his mandible.

"Is it strange that I find that incredibly sexy?"

"Not at all. Having a walking bottle opener is one of the many perks of dating a turian."

Shepard chuckled. "Maybe I am an alcoholic then."

Garrus wrapped his arm around Shepard. "There are worse things," he said lovingly, then popped open his own beer and took a sip. He immediately gagged and shook his head to rid himself of its flavor. "Like this beer."

"I know. It tastes awful, but it's nice to be able to drink the same thing for once."

"Awful's quite the understatement, but . . . it is nice." Garrus shared the sentiment. The ability to share a meal was one of things you didn't realize meant something until you couldn't. "Is it safe to say that this is 'our spot.'"

"I guess so," sighed Shepard, her freehand reached up and intertwined with his hand overhanging her shoulder. "A turian once told me it does inspire . . . what was it? A certain mood," she smiled, then reached over his cowl to kiss the fleshy underside of his neck.

"Oh, Shepard," he moaned, his eyes sliding close. His manhood quaked with arousal, his legs rippled, and his talons curled. "It's been too long if that's all it takes to set me off."

"I guess we do need to make up some lost time," she cooed, her lips brushing against his scaly flesh. She planted another kiss, then nibbled him along his jugular vein. A deep, guttural purr rumbled in his throat and the sound made her grin with an impish delighted. Her hand slipped out of his, then crept down his chest. When she reached his bony hips, she tucked her fingertips underneath the waistband of his pants, then quickly withdrew them.

Garrus gave her a perplexed, begging look, his mandibles fluttering.

"We shouldn't," she said coyly, running her finger around the rim of her bottle. She timidly glanced up at him, biting nervously on her lip. It was all an act of course, but she knew it would set him off. She was quite adept at pushing all the right buttons.

"To hell with that!" objected Garrus, clumsily untangling himself from her. He chugged the remainder of his beer, snagged hers, then chucked both of them into oblivion. They exchanged an anticipating look before they scrambled off the car in unison and dove inside.

After a few debacles and several gashes on Shepard's end, the two of them had finally begun to master cross species intercourse and they immediately went to work once in the car. Shepard flopped onto the backseat with a dull thud while Garrus slithered on top of her, careful not to scrap her skin or prod her. He was always impressed with how quickly her hands worked and before he knew it, his pants were undone and promptly discarded on the floor. The commander already managed to whittle herself down to her undergarments and Garrus resisted the urge to claw them off, and opted instead to roll her panties down and properly undid her bra with surprising precision.

"I see we've been practicing," she smirked, her hands massaging the tender patches of flesh dividing the smooth scales on his abdomen.

"I've had a lot of time to, um, 'research.'" He palmed one of her breasts and gently massaged her nipple with his thumb. He had taken a liking to the supple masses to his surprise and he loved the way she stirred underneath him at his touch.

"Oh, Shepard, do the thing," he pleaded softly, "I need you now." His heart was racing and he could feel his member throbbing, demanding to be released from his cloaca.

One of the greatest perks of having a human female for a partner was her ability to release his member from its cavity. Most female turians were very inexperienced at the task, so males often opted to wait until it swelled and emerged on its own to avoid lacerations. Shepard's lack of talons made it possible for her to submerge her hand into his slit without risk of injury and for reasons unknown to the commander, he loved it.

Shepard complied and slipped her fingertips inside his slit. It was warm and moist, and when he was aroused like now, it pulsated. She located his member swollen inside and stroked it to further tantalize him, then she gently pulled it out. Once outside, it looked fairly similar to the human male genitalia. A crinkly, veiny, and meaty apparatus, except it was gray with a tinge of blue. She felt it pound against her inner thigh and she grew moist with anticipation.

"Yes," he hissed, then nipped on the cartilage of her ear. One hand slithered behind her neck, sending a wave of goosebumps down her back and arms, while the other firmly gripped one of her thighs for leverage. He sheathed himself inside her and reveled at the expression she made. Her eyes crunched close, her brow furrowed slightly, and her lips parted and a small moan slipped out. The painful look drove him wild, but it was the moaning drove him into a primal, feral wild. Each thrust produced a sensual sound, and the faster and harder he went, the louder and more imploring she became. The car grew warmer and the windows were beginning to fog as their passion reached its climax.

"Garrus!" she exclaimed. Her back arched and he felt her innards clench down on him, signaling she was amidst an orgasm. The sound of his name resonated with him profoundly and he spilt his seed. Pure pleasure shot up his spine and his body momentarily numbed, his extremities tingling. He always felt like an overzealous juvenile whenever he made love to Shepard. It was both a good and bad thing, but mostly good.

"Crap," he groaned, removing himself. "Sorry, Shepard." He always tried to pull out as a safety precaution.

"It's fine," she huffed back, trying to catch her breath. "As long as I don't ingest it. Besides, it's not that bad." Turian sperm looked and felt more like soapy water and because it lacked the sticky, viscosity of human sperm, it made for easy clean up.

The two of them unpeeled themselves from one another, then awkwardly shuffled to a more comfortable sitting position. "So, what's the damage?" he panted, stretching his arms along the back of the seat.

"You got me pretty good here," she replied, still a little breathless herself. She raised her arm to reveal a mild but long scratch along her forearm.

"Crap. I'm sorry, Teddy," he said softly. He hugged her close to his body, then rested his chin on top of her head, indulging in the scent and texture of her hair.

"It was worth it," she replied dreamily. Suddenly Garrus's chest heaved and a single wrenching sob escaped him. "Garrus?" There were no tears, but as the sobs persisted, Shepard knew he was weeping the only way a turian could.

"Back on London . . . I was convinced it would be the last time I saw you alive. I just knew your name would be up on that wall. And all I could think about was that I should've been up there with you. I always have your back, but when you needed me most . . ." He arched his head back, his sinewy throat bobbed as he attempted to suppress more sobs to no avail. "I . . . I never dreamed it would be like this. We would be like this." He collected her in his arms and gently positioned her straddling his lap. He cupped her face, his hands slightly trembling, and stared deeply into her eyes. "I know I don't say it enough, but I love you, Shepard." He pressed his forehead to hers. "So much."

"Garrus . . ." she whispered, her fingers tracing the deep groves of his scar. "Knowing you were safe . . . Knowing that you would be there waiting for me . . . Knowing that you loved me . . . It kept me going." She ran her hands along the smooth horns of his crest, then coiled her arms inside his cowl in a tender embrace. "I love you, Garrus Vakarian."

Garrus nuzzled his beak to her ear. "Do the thing, Shepard. I'm not done with you yet."


	6. The Dress

Shepard had never felt so uncomfortable in her entire life as she did now standing awkwardly in a changing room. The three-sided mirror presented a set of doppelgangers, revealing every imaginable angle of her body draped in the dress Liara had picked out for her.

The commander was not a fashionista by any means and she chose clothes primarily on functionality. Her usual determiners like shield duration and ammo capacity couldn't be applied to the gown, so she was out of her element. The dress was a halterneck composed of a crème colored charmeuse that was unforgiving and clung to every curve and bulge it covered on its descent to the floor, leaving very little to the imagine. A thin, sparkly collar hugged her throat and from the clasp a long, glittery chain of beads fell and swept between her slender shoulder blades like a pendulum. Her chiseled back was entirely bare, revealing the large, faded scar of the gash she received from the thresher maw on Akuze. A sheer, glossy fabric covered the plunging, triangular neckline that came to a point an inch above her naval, a poor attempt to preserve some modesty.

Shepard's first instinct was to remove the garment immediately, but just as her arms wound back to unfasten herself, there came a light tap on the door. "Shepard, can I at least see how it looks?"

"No, I look ridiculous," snapped Shepard. A blue energy field formed around the door's lock from the inside, and before Shepard could counter with her own biotic ability, Liara unlocked the door and it slowly wound open, revealing a cringing Shepard.

"I knew it would positively gorgeous, Shepard." Liara gently guided the commander out of the dressing room by the shoulders, then proceeded to circle her like a bird of prey. She clapped her hands together, then said, "I have to insist that you wear this tonight. I saw the perfect pair of heels to match by the entrance."

"I think I would be more comfortable in my dress uniform," argued Shepard.

Liara frowned. "Absolutely not. This is not just another military ball, Shepard. Tonight is a celebration of you. All of you." Liara rested the palm of her hand against the small of Shepard's back, calling attention to the scar to emphasize her point. "It's about time you celebrated yourself, Shepard. You are most definitely worth it."

"You and I both know this reception is just another dog and pony show."

"Not to us," replied Liara sharply, her eyes diving to the ground. "Tonight is the last night we'll all be together again like, like . . ."

"Like old times?" chuckled Shepard. "You sound just like Garrus."

"Well it's true. Tonight is our night. Our final reunion before we take to our own paths." Liara gave sigh, but before they became too forlorn, her eyes lit up as an idea popped into her head. "Oh! I bet a headpiece would look lovely!" Her fingers glided across Shepard's forehead. "Yes. It will tie everything together."

"I guess," sighed Shepard, finally giving in.

"Promise me you will wear the dress tonight."

Shepard rolled her eyes, then dryly said, "I promise to wear the dress-"

"_And_ the heels and headpiece," simpered Liara.

Shepard exasperated, flinging her head back. "I promise to wear the dress, heels, and headpiece. Can I please change now?"

Liara gave a satisfied nod.

"Finally!" she cried as she ducked back inside the changing room.

"Is it safe to assume that a certain turian will be escorting you tonight?" asked Liara as she sat in one of the waiting chairs.

"Oh yes. I think he's actually looking forward to tonight."

"I'm not surprised. A lot of men would love to be in his position. Women too."

Shepard scoffed.

"Fine, don't believe me, but something tells me Garrus doesn't need to worry. I heard about the explicit things you two did in a skycar like a pair of lecherous adolescents."

"Who told you that?!"

"Shepard, you know," said Liara in a heavily implied voice, "I know things."

"Riiight. Well, I lack your resources, so how's your love life? Who's escorting you tonight?"

"Who says I need an escort?"

"Touchy . . . I just thought maybe, I don't know."

Liara sighed heavily, then admitted, "Javik did offer."

"Wait. You and Javik? When did this happen? Garrus told me you two went to Thessia, but it never crossed my mind that you two were a thing."

"We had . . . a moment while visiting Thessia."

"A 'moment,' huh?" Even though her face was hidden away, Liara could sense the commander's impish grin.

"I let my emotions take over and it clouded my judgment. It hurt so much to see the place where I grew up in such a state of absolute ruin. It was so unreal, Shepard. The devastation was indescribable and I needed to feel something, anything but the pain, so . . . we . . . performed a 'reproductive ritual.'"

"Is that he calls it?" squawked Shepard.

"Yes . . ." Liara buried her face into her hands shamefully.

"And?" Shepard's hands fanned the air above the door to urge her to continue.

"It was nice. Different, and he was surprisingly very gentle. I think he was a little apprehensive due to Prothean attitudes about inter-species relations, but he was very appreciative afterwards. He said . . . he said he was grateful to have found someone to connect him to this cycle."

Shepard thought back to London and Javik's resolve to take his own life.

"Regardless . . . I can't help but wonder if I am doing the right thing?"

"You care about him, so yes," said Shepard, her voice muffled as she pulled her shirt over her head.

"I do care about him a great deal. I just worry that he is attracted to me because I remind him of his people."

Shepard finally emerged wearing her N7 tracksuit, then plopped down in the chair beside Liara. "You've devoted your whole life to researching Protheans and he's a Prothean. Sounds like a match made in heaven to me. You're probably the only person in the galaxy he can share his past with."

"When you put it that way . . ." muttered Liara thoughtfully. "You are quite the matchmaker, Shepard. If you ever chose to retire from the Alliance, you should definitely consider becoming one."

"Yeah, yeah," replied Shepard, crossing her arms.

* * *

**_A/N: A bit of an awkward transition from the last chapter, but I hope you all enjoy it. Thanks for reading and please review._**


	7. There's No Shepard without Vakarian

Garrus arrived at Tiberius Towers dressed to the nines in a sharp, black tailored suit. A starchy white-collar hugged his throat and he tugged it every so often. The double-breasted jacket framed his cowl nicely, cinched perfectly at his waist, and split off into two triangular tails in the back. The outfit was atypical attire for turians, but he felt relatively comfortable in it. While waiting for the elevator, he caught his reflection in the shiny hallway walls and wondered if Shepard would approve.

A short elevator ride brought him to Anderson's apartment. It was the first time he had seen it since the shore leave party and it looked significantly different. It felt smaller than he remembered. Most of the lights were off, but as he navigated, a few sensor lights would turn on and quickly extinguish once he moved on. The entire apartment was eerily quiet, too quiet, and just as he opened his mouth to beckon Shepard, he heard a muffled voice coming from the bedroom upstairs. As he drew closer, it became clear it was Anderson's voice speaking.

"Sure, I can talk about Commander Shepard. Big topic. There's been a lot written about the Commander, but most of it isn't true." Garrus quietly entered the bedroom to see Shepard sitting at the front edge of the bed in her dress. Her head was slumped over and in her hand she clutched a small recorder. She seemed engrossed with the recording and didn't even notice him standing in the threshold. "Thing is, you never heard a complaint. Never once got 'No, sir. I can't do that.' She never hesitated. Few people know what Shepard's been through. I'd like to think I come pretty close. And I worry sometimes she forgets that there's a whole bunch of people who would lose sleep over her getting back home. Maybe it doesn't need to be said. Maybe we're too dumb to say it."

Shepard shuttered at his words and her shoulders began to tremble.

"Soldiers like the Commander are rare. Women like Shepard . . . even more rare."

The commander's face grimaced and the recorder fell from her hand. It was then Garrus felt compelled to speak. "He's right you know."

Shepard flinched terribly. "Damn it," she grumbled, driving her knuckles into the bed. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," he replied, swaying his head gently. "You look beautiful by the way." Garrus always found her beautiful, but tonight she looked particularly stunning.

"Thanks," she glowered back. She brushed off a bit of her sadness, then half-smiled, "You don't look half bad yourself."

"I try," he chuckled softly, then joined her on the bed.

"I . . . I found it while I was getting ready," she said in quiet, wavering voice. "This was suppose to be his retirement home . . ."

"Shepard . . ." He attempted to hug her, but she abruptly rose to her feet.

"We should get going. Wouldn't want to be late, especially since my last public appearance didn't end so well."

"Mourning isn't a sign of weakness, Shepard," said Garrus, refusing to go along with her ruse.

"I know that," she replied darkly.

"I don't think you do!" he retorted, he shook his head, then said, "When I lost my team back on Omega," he paused to run his hand along his visor, then continued in a softer tone, "and when my mother died . . . I just, I know how it feels, Shepard. And it's not weakness." Shepard glanced back at him over shoulder, then her eyes settled thoughtfully to the ground. "You're a lot of things," he added in a chirper tone, "but weak is not one of them."

Shepard lips quivered into a reluctant smile. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?" asked Garrus as he rose and offered her his arm.

Shepard bashfully accepted, then allowed him to lead her out. "You always know what to say."

"I know guns and military tactics," he said, counting on his taloned digits, then gently tilted Shepard's face up to his to peer warmly into her eyes, "and I know you, Teddy."

Shepard cracked a sheepish smile, then nuzzled her forehead against his.

* * *

After a flurry of formal introductions, handshakes, and salutes, and a commencement speech, Shepard managed to break away from the crowd and make her way to the mahogany bar tucked away from the main ballroom. She slid onto a round-cushioned stool and as she waited to be served, she admired the towering, gilded glass case set behind the bartender. She was surprised to see an abundance of alcoholic beverages that originated from Earth. A boxy bottle with a long neck and black and white label quickly caught her eye.

"What can I get you tonight, Commander?" asked the bartender.

Shepard made a gun with her hands and aimed with her index finger at the bottle secured in the case.

"I-I think that's for display only," he replied, a little unnerved at her request.

Shepard narrowed her eyes and raised a single challenging eyebrow. Without further direction, the bartender complied and took the bottle from the case.

"Thank you, sir," smirked Shepard as he sat the bottle before her. "It's been a long time since I've had whiskey."

The bartender nodded stoutly, then placed a glass filled with ice on the counter. "Can I get you anything else, Commander?"

"I think I'm set," she said as she poured herself a drink. He excused himself and left to attend to the other patrons.

"Loca?" Shepard turned her head to see Vega sitting a stool away from her, his muscular frame stuffed into a tux.

"Vega," replied Shepard dryly, then took a sip of her drink.

"I would've never pegged you as a fan of whiskey." He slid over to the stool next to her, then gestured to the bottle. "Jack, huh? This takes me back."

"Pour yourself a drink."

"Don't mind if I do!"

"When do you shove off?"

"Next week." He said as he brought his glass to lips, his eyes staring pensively into the distance.

"Nervous?"

"I don't know. How did you feel?"

"I was scared shitless," she snickered. The comment made the two of them burst into boisterous laughter that disturbed a few nearby. Once they settled down, Shepard wrapped an arm around his thick neck, then said, "You'll get through it. You survived London."

"Thanks to you," he sighed, "everything's thanks to you, Commander."

Shepard patted him on his shoulder. "Not everything."

"You know, sometimes I regret turning you down, Loca," he said with a teasing smile. His eyes scoped her up and down. "If I had known you looked like this under your uniform . . ."

Shepard scoffed. "Like you ever had a chance." She playfully socked him in his hard arm, then slid off her stool.

"Maybe you're right. Guys with scales are more your thing."

"You better believe it," she chuckled, then drained the remainder of her glass. "Well, I should get going before anyone notices I'm gone."

"Nice talking to you, Commander," he said, then cracked, "and if you ever need someone who knows how to handle a lady like yourself other than some clueless turian, look me up."

Shepard's head shook with laughter, then sighed, "Stay in touch, Vega." She squeezed his shoulder, then made her leave.

When she entered the main room, she immediately spotted the rest of the crew at their assigned table and food was being served. She weaved through servers toting broad trays, but as she attempted to take the empty seat next to Garrus, thin arms seized her.

Shepard wound around to a see a familiar face, or rather, mask.

"Shepard! You look amazing! I hardly recognized you!" cried Tali, releasing her.

"You can thank me for that!" chimed Liara from the table.

"You clean up pretty good, Shepard," grunted Wrex sitting beside Javik.

"Wrex? Don't you have an entire race to produce?"

The krogan gave a grainy snicker, then said, "Tonight is a much needed break from my 'reproductive duties.' Eve insisted I come. Something about a 'sign of good will.'"

"She's a wise one." Shepard planted herself down beside Garrus and Tali took an open seat on the opposite side of the round table. "Are you expecting a certain someone?" asked Liara, pointing to the vacant spot beside the quarian.

"I wish." Tali leaned forward to read the tiny, metal place card. "Human Spectre. Kaiden Alenko."

"Speak of the devil," grumbled Garrus as Kaiden appeared from the crowd.

"Be nice," scolded Shepard under her breath.

Before taking his seat, Kaiden rushed over to Shepard and swooped down to gather her in his arms. His embrace lasted a second too long for Garrus and he shifted irritably in his chair.

"Sorry about the other day," said Shepard as Kaiden erected himself.

"Don't be. It got pretty heated in there. If I were in your shoes, a lot more than a podium would've been broken." He smiled, then sat down too.

There were a few missing, but those who could tolerate and afford to be there were and it raised Shepard's spirits as they all regaled her with stories over their meal. Tali showed her a vid of a memorial statue of Legion constructed in their first settlement. Wrex described his plans for Tuchanka and boasted about his brood, especially his firstborn fittingly named Mordin. Liara reminisced and Javik actually complimented primitive food. However, Kaiden spent most of the evening pining over Shepard. Every so often he would participate in a collective laugh, but his focus on Shepard quickly restored. His actions went unnoticed by everyone, but Garrus.

Before long, Shepard's face was sore from smiling and she was beginning to feel lightheaded. She squeezed Garrus's shoulder, signaling she was stepping out for some much needed fresh air. Garrus watched her disappear into the crowd towards the towering picture windows leading to the room's balcony and when he returned his attention to the table, he noticed Kaiden was now absent. Garrus drained his drink to drown his suspicions, but he couldn't quite shake the bad feeling stirring in his gut.

The moment Shepard stepped out into the balcony, the reception was blocked out and replaced with the low, jumbled drone of the Silversun Strip. She leaned against the banister and deeply inhaled. Even though the air was artificial, she found it refreshing.

"I don't think I told you how beautiful you look tonight." Shepard glanced back to see Kaiden standing by the entrance, his hands tucked in his pockets.

"Thanks," smiled Shepard. "You're lookin' pretty spiffy yourself." Kaiden laughed softly, then joined her by her side. "Something on your mind, Kaiden?"

"I love you, Shepard," he whispered, his voice breaking at the end.

Shepard flinched at the sudden turn their conversation had taken and an uneasiness crept up her spine. Her mouth opened to make a reply, but unable to conjure words, it swiftly resealed.

"You loved me too once," he continued. He stepped closer and even in the dim light, she could see the tears glistening in his eyes.

Shepard averted his eyes, then advised in a steady tone. "Kaiden, don't do this."

The look on his face turned from hurt to a dark, scowling rage. "Do you have any idea how it feels to see you with Garrus?" he cried, inching his face closer to hers. "All night, all I could see was the two of you. Every smile, every laugh, every touch, every . . ." he fell lost for words, but his breathing grew louder and uneven. "It drives me crazy because I know it should be me!"

"Kaiden, this isn't you," replied Shepard calmly, flickering a single, reluctant glance his way.

"Don't patronize me!" he snarled through gritted teeth. "What can you possible see in him?!" Although it was meant to be rhetorical, Shepard felt obliged to answer.

"He trusts me, Kaiden!" she yelled back unyieldingly. Her outburst stunned him, but his expression remained the same.

"I mourned you, Shepard! I thought you were dead for two years, and then out of nowhere you appear and you're with Cerberus! What was I suppose to think?!"

Those gathered by the balcony windows began to notice their fighting and a hushed silence began to gradually ripple throughout the entire room.

"That doesn't look good," said Garrus, but as he rose to intervene, Liara's hand gently caught him on his forearm.

"We shouldn't intervene," she advised coolly, "not yet."

Garrus gave an agitated huff, his mandibles flaring, then he slowly eased back down, but his eyes remained intensely fixated on them. "One wrong move, Alenko," he muttered to himself.

"Cerberus was a means to end! I needed to stop the Collectors! Garrus understood that! He believed in me! Every decision and sacrifice I made! Always! Even when I doubted myself!"

Kaiden's body began to violently tremble and he continued to stare at her, his eyes reddened by tears and rage.

Shepard leaned in, then said in a low, malicious voice, "All I ever got from you was a gun in my face." Her words ignited him like a lit match to a pool of gasoline and a mass effect shield engulfed the entirety of his body. Shepard attempted to throw up her own shield, but Kaiden immobilized her. A collective horrified gasp came from onlookers inside and a handful of C-Sec officers were alerted.

"Crap!" yelled Garrus, then wildly leapt from his seat and made a beeline to the balcony door.

"He wouldn't . . . He wouldn't kill her," said Liara breathlessly, trying to reassure herself.

"Stand down!" bellowed Admiral Hackett as he tore through the crowd. "We don't want to rile him! He might kill the Commander!"

Shepard stared unflinching into Kaiden's trembling eyes as she helplessly levitated before him. "Take control of yourself, Alenko," she said in a strained voice, "I know you can."

"You made me feel human again, Shepard," he said hoarsely, his lips hardly moving. Kaiden tucked his hand into his jacket to retrieve a small pistol, then without hesitation or breaking eye contact, he placed the barrel to his temple and fired. His hold on her released and his blood spurted onto Shepard, blotching her face and dress.

"No!" screamed Shepard, but it was too late. The pistol fell from his hand and his body crumbled lifelessly towards her. Shepard caught him in her arms, then fell to her knees.

"Kaiden!" she screeched, her body rocking. Even though she could feel his blood dampen her gown and sticking to her flesh, it felt so unreal. "Why?" she whimpered, her arms cradling his bleeding head. "Kaiden . . . I didn't want this . . ."

"Theodora," called Garrus softly from behind.

"People keep dying around me, Garrus. I'm so tired of death," she sobbed, pressing Kaiden's remains close to her chest. "No more . . . Please . . . I can't take it . . ." Her heartfelt pleas stabbed at him as he realized just how heavily the war weighed on Shepard.

"You didn't do this," said Garrus firmly. "He did." Garrus silently cursed Kaiden, but he bottled his fuming rage for now.

"I . . . I can't stand it." Shepard placidly took the pistol discarded on the ground into her hand.

"There's no Shepard without Vakarian," he recited, his voice cracking with panic and his eyes nervously flickering from her blood-splattered face to the gun in her shaky, bloodied hand.

The pistol slid from her grasp and the second it clacked to the ground, Garrus swooped down and cradled her into his arms. She buried her face inside his cowl and silently wept as Garrus toted her away.

* * *

**_A/N: I know this chapter is a bit long, little choppy, and overloaded, but I promise the next one will be better. Thanks for reading and please stay tuned!_**


	8. Keep Breathing

_"There's only so much fight in a person, only so much death you can take before…"_

Shepard's words haunted Garrus as he observed her from the bed standing unmoving in the bathroom, still in her bloodied dress.

"The way he looked at me," she muttered faintly. Her eyes clamped close to block out the image, but it kept replaying over and over. "He . . . He said he loved me."

"Love you?" jeered Garrus, his mandibles flapping with disgust. "If he really loved you. He wouldn't have done this to you. He wouldn't so willingly leave you . . ." he fell lost for words, but quickly regained them. "Even if he couldn't have you . . . he would never be able to leave you alone in this galaxy. . . just in case." At least that's how he felt.

"Garrus . . ." she said breathlessly. There was a pensive silence, then a surge of anger unexpectedly erupted inside her and her face twisted in both pain and outrage. "GET THIS OFF OF ME!" she cried, her hands wildly wrangling backwards to undo the clasp of her dress.

Garrus jolted off the bed and rushed behind her to free her. She began to hyperventilate, each exhale a hoarse scream. "DAMN IT! DAMN IT!" she wailed, clawing at her dress, its once silky fabric stiff with dried blood. Finally she felt her dress fall onto her bare feet and she whipped around, then without warning she vigorously started to remove his clothes. When all of his clothes were discarded on the floor alongside her own, she leapt onto him, affixing her legs firmly around his narrow waist. Her breasts molded onto his carapace, the contrast between the chilliness of his plates and warmth of his scaly flesh felt amazing against her skin. She pressed her lips to his beak, suckling the underside, while one hand massaged his scar and the other seized him at the nape of his neck.

Garrus clumsily maneuvered into the shower with her latched onto him, indulging in each of her passionate touches. Once inside, Shepard's arm slammed backwards to activate the shower and the instant the warm water rained down on her, red streaks slithered off her body and she felt renewed. Nothing mattered outside his embrace and all she could feel was her love for him.

Garrus pinned her back onto the tiled wall and she felt a pleasurable pressure swell within her as he submerged himself. As he repeatedly reentered, each thrust released tantalizing shock waves from her thighs that trickled all over her body.

Before long they emerged from the shower and Garrus enveloped her in a towel from behind and hugged her close.

"Come with me to Palaven, Shepard," he said.

Shepard arched her head up to him and their eyes locked, then she nodded.

* * *

The nightmare began with what remained of the Normandy crew gathered around the memorial wall, all of their faces sullen. Garrus stepped forward and placed a placard above Anderson's that read: **THEODORA SHEPARD.**

"NO!" Garrus awoke with a start, his heart pounding in his ears and beads of sweat dribbling down his fleshy neck. The low hum of the transport shuttle's engine reassured him of the time and place, and his anxiety quickly dissolved.

"Bad dream?" asked Shepard from the seating across from him, the starry light from the cabin's window playing against her skin in the dim light. "I thought you didn't have them."

"I don't. I just . . . I just worry about you."

"You shouldn't," she sighed. "I'm fine, well, for the most part."

"I can't help it. I love you," he replied. The comment made a small smile appear on her face and his mandible twitched sheepishly. He drummed anxiously on the seat, then said, "I know this may come to a shock to you, but I've never been in a relationship like this."

"Like . . . with a human?"

"Well, yes, but I meant more like, uh, sort of, er, romantically, hm, emotionally . . . er, invested." Garrus shook his head, cursing his awkward wording.

Shepard chuckled, rolled her eyes and scoffed, then returned to peering outside the window.

"I'm serious, Shepard. Women usually make me . . . uncomfortable, but with you . . ."

Shepard raised a skeptical eyebrow, then teasingly rebutted, "What about flexibility girl?"

"Purely carnal. My sexual exploits are few and far between, but that's all they were." He hopped over to sit next to her, then leaned into her face and said, "Then I met you and . . ."

Shepard conceded and turned towards him, an amused smirk on her face. "And . . ." she crooned, rolling her hand to urge him to continue.

"I just never thought I'd feel this way about someone."

"What are you saying, Garrus?"

"I . . . I want, no, I _need_ you to retire."

"Retire? From what?" she snided playfully.

"Shepard . . ." he groaned, his head tilting to the ceiling in exasperation.

"Retire, then what?" she snapped, she gave a sigh, then quietly added, "I considered it, but the Alliance is my life."

"Then make a new one!" exclaimed Garrus. He cleared his throat and seized her hands in his, then bumbled tenderly, "With me."

"Garrus . . ."

"Please, Shepard. I need to know that you will always be-"

A hasty voice interrupted over the intercom.

"Theodora Shepard? Presiding doctor. I have been instructed to inspect all non-turian passengers."

"Come in," said Shepard, staring longingly at Garrus.

"Later," he reassured, then gently squeezed her hands and shifted back to his original seating.

The compartment doors parted to reveal a bright-eyed salarian male in a white medical jumpsuit. "Human. Female. Ln5 implants. Cybernetics, hm . . . _Extensive_ cybernetics," he recited in a rushed murmur.

"Mordin?" The name slipped out involuntarily. His pale skin and orange markings resembled Dr. Solus, but the lack of wrinkles and undamaged horn ensured it wasn't. "Sorry," she said abashedly. "I thought you were an old friend."

The salarian jittered a few things into his data pad, then looked thoughtfully at her. "Doctor Mordin Solus. My uncle." The words ignited a spark of excitement in Shepard. "Did you know him?"

"Know him?" sneered Garrus.

"You must be the favorite nephew," she grinned.

"Only nephew," he corrected with a modest smile. "Lazic Solus. Recognized name Shepard, but did not think it was you. Uncle spoke highly of you. Honored to meet you, Commander." He extended his hand and Shepard took it.

"So about this inspection?"

"Protocol in nature." He activated his omni-tool and swiftly scanned her. "Excellent. Already suited with solar radiation resistant gear." Beneath her simple jumper she wore a thin, malleable underarmor Garrus insisted she wear and she now understood why. "Weak atmosphere, ill-suited for non-armored life forms. Avoid direct exposure to sun and suggest employ biotic shield during daytime hours. Will prescribe preventive drugs." Lazic dove into his medical bag and handed her a smooth, white capsule dispenser. "The Reaper attack on Palaven made air highly intolerable for humans. Planet still normalizing. Will prescribe an inhalant." He reached down into his bag to retrieve a clear breathing mask apparatus.

"Highly intolerable?" repeated Shepard as she warily took the mask from him.

"Breathable but heavily polluted. Humans lack the proper respiratory system. Breathing air equivalent to what humans call, 'chain-smoking.' Mask will periodically release solvent and filter air. Wear at all times when exposed to non-filtered air."

"Fantastic," sighed Shepard dryly as she applied the apparatus to her face. "I feel like a volus."

"Now we're even for dragging me into that quarantine clinic back on Omega," said Garrus in a teasing voice. "Besides, it compliments your eyes."

"Curious," said Lazic, "why visit Palaven?"

"Garrus has family here and I needed a vacation, so I tagged along."

"Ah, yes. Remember Uncle mentioned interspecies relations occurring on the Normandy. Odd, but good for you."

Mordin's sex talk replayed in her mind and she had to suppress a burst of laughter. She restored her attention back on the salarian, then said, "Last I heard you were offered tenure, so what brings you to Palaven, Doctor?"

"Felt shameful after Uncle died. Needed to make a change. Needed to do good work. Meaningful work. Palaven needed doctors. Here I am." He powered down his omni-tool, then deeply inhaled and his eyes slid close. "Also, I miss Uncle. Good, meaningful work will be a welcomed distraction." His eyes popped back open. "Best of luck, Commander. Stationed nearby your destination. You should visit . . . Could reminiscence about Uncle. Yes. That would be very enjoyable."

"Definitely."


	9. Happy You're Alive

Chapter Nine

The sun was seeping into the horizon when Solana Vakarian entered the small, dimly lit café and was relieved that it was vacant aside from the idle staff. It meant she had more time to rehearse what she fully intended to say to her brother upon his arrival. Over the course of the last two years she had gathered a colorful array of words for him and she didn't want to forget a single one when they finally met face-to-face. She ordered a small java, then slid into a booth with a clear view of the entrance to ensure she would see him the moment he appeared.

Solana was rather petite for a turian female and was often mistaken for an adolescent. She lacked facial paint, her cowl was more demure, and her icy blue eyes were larger and rounder. Her plates were the same silvery gray as Garrus, but her scaly skin was a lighter shade of brown. She lacked a crest of horns like all turian females and her facial fringe was more prominent, framing her face like an elegant masquerade mask. Her feet were bare since casual shoes weren't common practice for turians. She wore a dark navy tunic that cinched at her waist and swept over her full hips. Her sinewy arms and legs were bare and if she had cleavage, the triangular neckline would have revealed it.

Just as her drink was set before her, an all too familiar turian appeared through the windows lining the wall by the entrance and at the sight of his visor still plastered on his head Solana laughed quietly to herself, shaking her head incredulously. It was a gift from their father when he joined C-Sec and she couldn't believe he still donned it.

However, what little happiness recovered was quickly lost as she noticed a human female by his side. She hadn't stipulated that he come alone, but she felt the female was imposing. Afterall, she hadn't seen her brother in almost three years. Solana gave an exasperated sigh, her mandibles twitching, and continued to silently observe them with narrowed eyes. Her stern expression loosened when Garrus turned to face the human, revealing his gnarled scar scrolling across the entirety of his profile. A soft gasp escaped her, then she swiftly she took a gulp of java to drown any traces of sympathy that might manifest.

The two of them exchanged a few words, Garrus's mandibles flapped with laughter and female smiled. Solana thought the way they looked at each other was too intimate and her suspicions were confirmed when Garrus lifted up the human's breathing mask and leaned down to press his mouth against hers. The gesture was foreign to her species, but she knew "kissing," as humans called it, was a sign of affection. Once they broke apart, the human said something, her hand stroking Garrus's scar, then she departed. Garrus stood outside until she was undoubtedly no longer visible, then he finally entered the café. His eyes briefly hovered the room before focusing on Solana. Once their eyes met, Solana's hand lifted into a short, agitated wave.

As he sat across from her, Solana was able to assess his scar and involuntarily cried, "Spirits! What happened to your face?"

"Nice to see you too, sis," he replied curtly, his mandibles flaring irritably.

Sol cleared her throat abashedly, then seized Garrus by the chin, then roughly tilted his head to further scrutinize his scar. She clicked her tongue, then said in a despairing tone, "Makes sense now why you refused to video chat. I would be ashamed too. How disfiguring."

Garrus roughly shook his chin free from her grasp, then bitterly mumbled, "Tell me how you really feel, Sol."

"Well, at least you won't have to worry about Kilara harassing you any longer."

"I won't be needing a date," he retorted grumpily.

"Ah, yes," she trilled, resting back and crossing her arms, "never would have guessed you had a human fetish, Garrus."

Garrus's brow raised with surprise, then sheepishly muttered, "I guess you saw us then."

"So, who is she?" groaned Sol, conceding to her own curiosity.

"Commander Shepard," replied Garrus in a low, mumble.

"_The_ Commander Shepard?"

Garrus cleared his throat awkwardly and glanced uncertainly at Solana.

"Of course," she sighed, casting her head up to the ceiling.

"Sol . . ." attempted Garrus, but she raised a shaky hand to silence him, her eyes still focused upward.

"It makes so much sense now," she said in a soft, pensive voice.

Garrus's head lowered shamefully, his eyes sliding close.

"Why you left C-Sec. Why you ran off to Omega. Why you refused to come see Mom one last time . . ." Her voice broke and she took a deep, collective breath before continuing. "All paths lead back to her, don't they?" With rage building in her chest, she slowly faced him, her eyes trembling with resentment and pain. "It never occurred to me that you . . . you _loved_ her."

"Don't. Don't blame Shepard for my poor choices," insisted Garrus in low tone.

"Mom needed you. Dad needed you. I needed you. We needed you. Your family needed you, but . . ." her voice cracked into painful laughter, her head shaking in disbelief. "But I guess she needed you more."

"Sol . . ." pleaded Garrus. "You're right. I should've been here. I . . . I couldn't watch Mom die."

"And I could?!" she screeched back, slamming her small, balled fists against the table. She startled not only Garrus, and nearby staff, but even herself. She recoiled into herself and her throat tightened as one frustrated sob escaped her.

There was a heavy silence before either one of them dared to speak, and when Garrus's mouth parted to utter another apology, Solana beat him.

"Mom knew," she said in a light, reflective tone. "When Dad found out you were on Omega operating as a vigilante after Shepard died, Mom said, 'He loved that Commander.' Dad and I thought you were crazy, but she understood."

Garrus choked up a little bit, then weakly smiled, "Mom always understood."

"Yeah," replied Solana breathlessly. "I came here prepared to hate you, Garrus, but . . . I'm just so happy you're alive."


	10. Father Knows Best

Nerois Vakarian was a usual at the battle simulator bar and grill. He ordered the usual at the bar; a pint of the finest brew, then sat at his favorite table that directly faced the large, one-way glass window overlooking the battle arena. The dining room always had a moderate crowd, but tonight they were rather boisterous. Nerois's murky blue eyes studied the display and immediately understood why there was such an uproar. An unknown human was dominating the free-for-all battle against five other turian soldiers. It was an absolute upset.

"Rumor has it that it's Commander Shepard," he overheard one adolescent say to another, their faces pressed against the window. Nerois scoffed, then took a long sip of his beer, his tired, old eyes hovering over the rim remained fixated on the human diving and ducking through the flat arena The human's face was hidden away by the white, battle helmet worn by all the players, but with what little knowledge he possessed about human anatomy, the old turian was able to deduce the human was in fact female.

The female rushed an unexpected player head on, taking minimal damage before administrating a lungful punch to stun him and few rounds of fire from her dummy shotgun finished him off. A red light washed over the room, indicating the player's death. A rallied cheer came from the observers, but Nerois silently watched the stats display and was amazed how she not only destroyed her opponent's shield ratio, but completely depleted his health bar all in a matter of seconds. He had never seen a human maneuver like that, and if he hadn't witnessed it, he wouldn't believe humans were capable of such a high degree of tenaciousness. Another player peaked over a slab and attempted a headshot, but she fluidly evaded and rolled back into cover.

"She's something else, huh, Pop?" Nerois lazily tilted his head back to see Garrus. He hadn't seen his son since the Reaper attack, but he was hardly a sentimental man. "Solana tipped me off that I might find you here," he said as he joined Nerois at the table. "She had some business to attend to and said she would meet us back at the house later."

"Business, huh?" chuckled Nerois. "By business she must mean that quarian mechanic she doesn't think I know about."

"Quarian mechanic?"

Nerois arched an eyebrow at his son, then explained, "Saw them 'kiss' before we boarded the escape shuttle. He even removed his mask."

"Oh," replied Garrus as it finally donned on him what his father was getting at, and it occurred to him that this was a perfect opportunity to test the water. "So . . . My kid sister's finally dating and of course it's a non-turian. Interspecies dating . . . How do you feel about that, Pop?"

Nerois shrugged, then answered, "Smart kid. Good head on his shoulders. She's happy. What do I care?"

Garrus blinked blankly at him, stunned by his unbothered response.

"I hear she's Commander Shepard," said Nerois casually, feeling a little silly repeating a rumor conceived by juveniles.

"You don't say?" replied Garrus knowingly.

"I see . . . Well, I always thought the vids exaggerated her skills, but she's quite the marvel." He tore himself away from the spectacle, then inquired, "So, my boy, what brings you to Palaven?"

"I thought I owed my homeworld a visit. Catch up with my family . . . and I was planning on, er . . ." Garrus couldn't quite muster the words.

"She really is Commander Shepard," uttered Nerois in a soft, admirable tone, his focus returning to the battle. "The one who saved your ass back on Omega. The one who saved all our asses really."

"Yeah," chortled Garrus embarrassedly, running a hand over his crest.

There was a pause while they both intently watched Shepard take down another player and it was then Nerois spoke.

"Shame the two of you can't have children. What a waste," he paused, then clarified, "on her part mostly. She'd make a fine mother. Excellent mate too I imagine."

Garrus's mandible flapped with a sighing chuckle, then smirked at his father's perception.

"I'm sure she's quite a dish by human standards," he continued, "but if she's the one you want and she reciprocates, then you have my blessing, son."

"That's . . . unexpected," said Garrus.

"After your mother died, I finally learned to accept the things you cannot control. I've 'mellowed out' to quote your sister. Between you and Shepard, and Sol and that quarian," Nerois paused to drain his glass, then said dryly, "I guess grandkids are out of the question."

"There's always adoption," snickered Garrus.

The battle room flashed red for the final time, and a victory anthem began to play over the cheers of the spectators around them and the words: **TEDDY RED** blazed every display in the room.

"Teddy Red?" read Nerois aloud unsurely.

Garrus's head shook with laughter, then explained, "An old alias of hers."

From inside the arena, Shepard removed her helmet to revealing her face flushed with excitement. As he watched her tousle her short tuff of hair, Garrus envisioned lines of blue paint tinting her face.

"North thirty degrees, forty-two minutes, twelve seconds. West seventy degrees, thirty minutes, nineteen seconds," he dictated. "That's where I took your mother. It's away from everything. Real quiet and peaceful. Beautiful place, especially at night."

"Thanks, Pop," he replied softly, his mandibles forming an appreciative smirk.

Nerois merely nodded stiffly and looked forward to his new daughter-in-law.

* * *

The small pack of turian soldiers gathered in the corridor outside the battle arena. Amongst themselves they enthusiastically reenacted their deaths by the hand of Shepard and raved about her blunt efficiency. However, one young soldier, fresh out of the academy, was distant and listlessly participated, his eyes every so often flickered towards the arena exit.

Finally Shepard emerged from the arena in her N7 tracksuit, a duffle bag hung from her shoulder and her breathing mask dangled loosely around her neck. She managed to evade the turians on her way to the elevator, but just as the doors slid close, the young soldier hopped aboard. She flashed him a cordial smile, then pressed the controls.

The soft twinkling of elevator music and the low hum of elevator's motor were the only sounds until the soldier finally mustered the courage to speak.

"Good evening, Commander. My name's Paladen," he said politely, a nervous tremble in his flanging voice, then he added, "Arterius. Paladen Arterius."

The pleasantry immediately evaporated from Shepard's face as the last name triggered a series of flashbacks depicting the rogue spectre. She shook away the memories, then snapped, "I hope you have more sense than to initiate your revenge in an elevator."

"Revenge? Not at all. I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me? For killing your brother?" scoffed Shepard, raising a dubious eyebrow.

"He was no longer my brother then, but an indoctrinated shell. I heard in the end he took his own life, but . . ."

The unsettling image of Saren's cybernetic corpse resurfaced and she knew why Paladen hesitated. The elevator halted and the doors slid open to reveal the dining area. As Shepard exited, he spoke once more.

"He was the pride and joy of my parents, and his betrayal broke their hearts, but thanks to you, he redeemed himself in death. I never thought I would have the opportunity to thank you in person, Commander."

Shepard nodded back to him over her shoulder, her eyes lowered uncertainly. Paladen gave her a stout turian salute, then the doors sealed close and the elevator departed. The occupants in the dining area had thinned as it approached closing time, but Shepard quickly spied a gray turian with blue paint on his face sitting alone at table. She rushed behind him and caught him in an embrace, her harms tightly coiling around his cowl.

"Wrong turian," he grunted dryly, his flanging voice vaguely similar to Garrus, but raspier and wizened.

Shepard spastically removed herself, then round around to face him and it was no wonder she had mistaken the older turian to be Garrus. He bared the same blue markings, though they were more faded and chipped. Thick ridges lined his facial plates, the human equivalent of wrinkles, and his blue eyes were murkier than Garrus's icy blue ones.

"I'll take it as a compliment that an old man like me can be mistaken for his son. Garrus is using the facilities," he said, then extended his hand, "Nerois Vakarian."

"Commander Shepard. Alliance Navy," she replied with a mortified smirk, then took his hand and firmly shook it.

Shepard was never very good at first impressions, or so she thought.

* * *

_**A/N: Thanks for reading, reviewing, following, and faving as always! The next few chapters are a little spastic and disconnected. I had a lot of ideas for what I wanted to happen, but I don't really know how to mesh them all together. Regardless, I hope you all enjoy and stick around for future installments.**_

_**EDIT: 3/8/14 - Made an addition. **_


	11. A Boyhood Fantasy

Shepard now stood in Garrus's childhood bedroom, evidenced by the countless amount of intricate gun diagram posters covering every inch of wall space, even the ceiling. Throughout the small, circular room there were shelves decked with golden trophies and metals. Each one baring a gun and most were first place. Atop a drawer were a few pictures. One depicted a teenage Garrus as a newly inducted cadet. Fresh, crisp lines of blue paint adorned his hard face and she couldn't help but smile. There was one from what looked like a vacation with the entire family. Her eyes finally fell upon a faded picture undoubtedly featuring his mother. The lifting color created a dreamlike loveliness about her, a kind of radiance only mothers possessed, and in her plated arms she cradled what Shepard suspected to be Garrus as an infant. It was hard to envision the large, glossy eyed baby would eventually grow up to be the man she knew and loved.

"If my fourteen-year-old self could see me now." Shepard glanced over her shoulder to see Garrus leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed. "I would've killed to have a real live girl in my room back then."

"Most girls wouldn't care for the motif," teased Shepard, her eyes scanning the posters.

"Luckily you're not like most girls," he retorted in a tender voice, his head cocking to the side.

Shepard flashed the picture of him as a cadet in his direction, then said, "You mean to tell me a good-looking kid like you never snuck a girl up to your room."

"I assure you that bed is a virginal one," replied Garrus, gesturing his head to the full-sized bed fitted into a skycar bedframe "What girl would want to make out, much less go all the way, with someone who slept in a skycar?"

"Well, at least you had your guns, right?" she chuckled. "Maybe your proficiency in rifles is a result of years of sexual repression."

"_Years_," sneered Garrus, his nose crinkling. "Give me some credit. I was at the top at my class. The best shot on the rifle team. The girls couldn't resist me." He closed his eyes in thought, then listed off, "I was sixteen. The captain of the rifle team. She was a senior. We had just won the tri-colonial championship. Probably the best five seconds of her life."

Shepard laughed heartily, then said, "I guess you've always had a thing for older women." She was nearly five years his senior.

"Perhaps. There's just something about a woman in power."

Shepard smiled at him, then she returned to admiring the pictures.

"So . . ." prodded Garrus, "how old were you when you did the deed for the first time?"

Shepard flashed a single unsure eye at him, then shook her head dismissively.

"I told you mine!" he protested.

"Fine. Fine," she yielded, then searched her memory briefly before continuing. "I believe I was twenty-two, no, three. Twenty-three."

"Crap. Really?"

"A good friend of mine got the clap back when we were kids, so I was pretty terrified."

"The clap?"

"Chlamydia. It's a venereal disease."

"Aw. Well . . . that'll do it. So who exactly was this gent who helped you overcome your fear?"

"Really?" she derided. "Do you really want to know?"

"I don't want all the gory details," he snarked, "but yeah."

"I had just graduated from ICT. I was on the cruiser back home and I looked like I'd been to hell and back, then out of no where this marine said . . ." Shepard stalled for words, utterly embarrassed, then muttered, "he said, 'You're beautiful.' It was the first time anyone had ever called me that. And here I was looking like death, covered in mud, smelled like shit, and this guy thought I was beautiful." Shepard whipped her head towards him, her eyes glaring, then barked, "Go on! Laugh!"

Garrus popped his shoulder off the threshold to straighten himself upright, then asked, "Do you remember his name?"

"Yeah," she replied quietly, "Griffin. He died back on Akuze." Shepard's eyes lowered, a little ashamed she hadn't thought about him until now.

"Did you love him?" asked Garrus cautiously.

"No, well, at least not the way I love you. It was more of a platonic, mutual respect kind of thing and it got to a point where I felt like I was kissing my brother, so we called it off."

"Interesting . . ." hummed Garrus as he strolled by her and took a seat on the bed, his back resting against the adjacent wall. "Was there a point when you knew we were destined to be more than friends? Was it . . . What do you humans call it? Ah! Was it true love at first sight?"

"No," answered Shepard quickly.

"Ouch," hooted Garrus back, playfully slamming his palm over his heart.

"You were still a self-righteous kid with something to prove when I first met you back on the Citadel. I found you . . . endearing, but it never crossed my mind."

"Self-righteous? A kid?" grumbled Garrus, mildly offended.

Shepard hardened her face, straightened her back, and propped herself on her toes. "Garrus Vakarian," she mimicked his voice, "Saren is a traitor to the council and disgrace to my people! I know this is your show, Shepard, but I'm coming along!" Garrus was not amused by the nearly spot on impersonation, but Shepard broke character and exploded into a fit of laughter.

"Laugh it up, Shepard," he insisted flatly, but the sight of her happiness delighted him on the inside, even if it was at his own expense.

When she finally caught her breath, she continued reminiscing. "But on Omega you were . . . different, a little broken, but yet the same."

"So that's when you knew there might be something between us?"

"Not at first. I mean I was glad to see you, but I didn't realize how much I cared about you until you took a rocket to the face and I thought you were dead."

Garrus chuckled dryly, then said, "A direct hit from a rocket hardly compares to surviving reentry to a planet."

"I suffocated to death before even reaching the planet's atmosphere," noted Shepard in a matter-of-fact tone.

Garrus gave an amused sigh, then said tenderly, "I lost it when you I heard you died. I dropped out of C-Sec and cancelled my request for Spectre training, and took up mercenary work. Ended up on Omega and the rest's history." He laughed abashedly, then he looked up to Shepard, his eyes overflowing with affection. "I thought I was going to die that day, but just as I called Dad, I saw that 'N7' through my scope, and I knew my luck had changed. That's when it hit me. I finally realized you were the reason. The reason why I could no longer tolerate the bureaucracy and why I abandoned the life I knew. I spent the last two years searching for something, anything, to fill the void you left behind. Even with half my face destroyed, everything felt right again back on the Normandy . . . back with you. And that's when I knew I loved you, Teddy."

Shepard stared at him unblinking, then drolled, "Way to put me to shame, Vakarian."

"Yeah, but never did I ever think you would even consider . . . y'know."

"Why not?"

"I was under the impression that physical attraction was essential to humans when deciding upon a mate, so . . ."

"It's strange, but yeah, I do think you're handsome."

"Still trying to make me blush, Shepard?" he teased, but her confirmation did arouse a warm, sensual feeling in him and he reached out to gently snag her by the wrist.

"Until it works," she replied back as he reeled her closer by the arm. The exchange was becoming a custom between the two of them. She straddled herself onto his lap, her forehead pressed against his.

"How about we fulfill a boyhood fantasy of mine?" he suggested, delicately running his talons along her cheek.

"Your family's downstairs," she reminded him, but before she could escape his hold, the turian fell backward, forcing her to pin him against the bed.

"C'mon, Shepard," he coaxed, his hands kneading all the right places along her muscular thighs.

Shepard could feel his cloaca throbbing against her crotch and she moistened with anticipation of his member entering her. She bit shyly on her lip, then released the suction on his pants. Garrus playfully lunged forward and proceeded to make love to her like his life depended on it. Shepard struggled to suppress her moaning, but every so often Garrus would thrust perfectly, and force one out of her. Regardless, the skycar bed made enough noise, its squeaking in sync with Garrus. Amidst their passions, he abruptly unsheathed himself from her.

"What's wrong?" asked Shepard in puffs of air, her bare chest heaving.

"I want to try something," he explained, whispering coolly into her ear, then his head retreated away from hers and fell out of her sight.

"Try something?" she repeated, a little anxious. "I really don't think we should be experimenting now, oh, ah . . ." She was in middle of sitting up, but the second she felt his cool, slimy tongue lap against her sex, she flopped back down, the sheets deflating underneath her. Her eyes widened briefly with disbelief, but quickly fluttered close as Garrus vigorously went to work, his prehensile tongue adept at pleasurably squeezing even the tiniest slivers of meaty flesh.

Garrus reveled in how she squirmed, her thighs quivering and flexing against his head. Her pleading hands vigorously caressed the nape of his neck, releasing a wave goosebumps down his back with each touch. He found the warm, somatic scent rising from her sex supplemented a carnal satisfaction and his passion rose.

"Pah-please don't stop, Garrus," she whimpered, her pelvic arching, "I think . . . I'm so close . . ." The moment his tongue seized her clit, she let out a loud, satisfied moan, but then quickly slammed a hand to her mouth. "Do you think they heard," she whispered frightfully, her head still pounding with ecstasy.

"Definitely," replied Garrus bluntly, his mandibles flaring with pride. "I wouldn't be surprised if all of Palaven heard.

"Damn it, Garrus. Why'd you do that?" she scolded lightheartedly, jerking him playfully by his crest.

"Apparently you liked it," he retorted, resting his head against the curve of her waist, his legs overhanging the undersized bed. "Besides, sex isn't a perverse thing to turians like humans often make it out to be." He wiped the back of his hand against his mouth. "I've never seen you so . . . moist. I read that human females typically get more pleasure from oral sex. Why didn't tell me?"

"I honestly never considered it. That was a first for me."

"Really? Well I'm glad you enjoyed it," he said, his mandible forming a beaming grin. "Are you ready for round two?"

* * *

_**A/N: This is a mostly fluff chapter and I'm okay with that. I hope you all enjoy it and please fav, follow, and review as always. I also added a little bit to the previous chapter if interested, but it's non-essential to the story.**_


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